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I’m sorry it took longer than I expected to post this episode, but the Muse got carried away on another storyline and when she gets started, I can’t interrupt her!
All previous disclaimers apply.
Episode 26—Baby Business… Mostly
ANASTASIA
The following week is very quiet… peaceful is more like it.
Christian has taken note that I’ve begun my maternity leave even though I made no public announcement. I didn’t have to. I slept in every day this week; I’m eating hearty, healthy breakfasts; and my wardrobe of choice has been some flowy, comfortable maxi dress every day. As such, he had veritably decided to take his paternity leave as well, only working or going into the office when it’s utterly necessary or if there’s an emergency.
With Ms. Solomon’s help, I’ve centered my diet around delicious, potassium-rich food, and I didn’t have to add any kidney beans—those damn things make me want to vomit! Just yummy, delicious foods and dishes, including lots of fresh melon. Christian helps me with my yoga every morning. Then it’s shower, dress in a flowy dress, and hurry up and relax.
Mikey has learned his lesson, but he’s making me pay for it. He hasn’t called me Buhfry once this week, but he’s wearing Mahmee out.
“Oh, you don’t want me to call you Butterfly? Okay!”
“Mahmee? Gape!”
“Mahmee? Jue!”
“Mahmee? Bok!”
“Mahmee? Wapittygapadahboo!”
“Gimme! Mahmee? Gimme!”
It doesn’t matter who’s in the room, it’s “Mahmee! Mahmee! “Mahmee!”
I’ve gotten to the point where I’m just spending most of my time saying,
“Yes, Mikey?”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Yes, Mikey?”
Half the time, he says some baby goop and then goes about his business playing with Minnie or the dogs. Now, I have to try to teach him not to be the “Boy Who Cried Wolf,” but it’s not bothering me too much at the moment.
All in all, it was a week of utter bliss, but I should’ve known that it wouldn’t last.
I gave Marilyn Friday off to do some packing at her apartment to get ready to move into the condo since my baby shower is tomorrow and I’ll be effectively stealing her Saturday. While she’s packing, I spend the day being pampered. After he helped me with my morning yoga, Christian and I use the techniques that we learned on the babymoon to see just how Trevor is positioned. He’s pretty much in the same position that he was before, but it feels like his head might be turning to the optimal position for delivery. My stomach has swollen a bit more, but thank God, only my stomach! If my hips get any bigger, they’re going to explode!
After morning yoga, I partake in a session of prenatal massage before donning a fleece “bump” suit, then having my belly decorated in henna. I feel like a princess—a 400-pound princess, but a princess, nonetheless. Later that afternoon, I call Aaron to ask him about another project and discover that he’s on site helping with the pool. So, he comes up to the family room to meet with me about my request.
“Please, don’t hate me,” I say, “but I want the indoor doggie condo dismantled and converted back to a guest bedroom.” He pokes out his bottom lip.
“But… why?” he whines. “That’s one of the cutest projects I’ve ever done!”
“They never use it,” I confess. “Their ‘condo’ is all over the house and they use the mudroom more often. They won’t readily be able to get to it anyway because there’s the baby gate at the top of the stairs.” Aaron sighs.
“How soon do you want me to break it down?” he laments.
“Whenever you get to it,” I say. “When they were pups and in the deepest part of their training, it was very useful. It definitely served its purpose, but now, it’s just wasted space and I think we’re going to need that room back.” He sighs.
“You guys should just have me on retainer with all the changes that you make,” he says mirthfully.
“That might not be a bad idea,” I say. He pauses.
“It was a joke,” he replies. “Joking…”
“I’m not,” I say. “Of course, I don’t want to pull you away from any other jobs, but you’re nearly at our beck and call. Whenever we want to make a change, there you are, and you haven’t given us any trouble about it. The smallest job you had was the doggy condo and you’re front and center whenever we call. If Christian hasn’t already told you, he’s looking to make some changes to the boat and I’m certain you had something to do with that backyard oasis that I now enjoy.
“Yes, he has and yes, I did,” he says proudly. “You like it?”
“Oh, Aaron, I love it,” I say. “It was such a wonderful surprise. Did he tell you that I waxed nostalgic at a porch in Vermont?”
“He did,” Aaron confirms. “He showed me lots of pictures of that mansion and the gardens around the national park. I was under direct order to ‘get it right.’” He says with mirth, badly mimicking Christian’s voice.
“Well, all the more reason to have you on retainer,” I say. He waves me off.
“I assure you there’s no need for that,” he says. “I was just joking. No matter what kind of work you want done, I know you’re good for the fee. You’re one of my best clients. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I’d hate to have to call Gia Mateo,” I jest. He raises a brow.
“I don’t think you could anyway,” he says, and I’m alarmed.
“Why?” I ask. “Is she dead?”
“No, but well out of commission,” he says. “I don’t know who got a hold of her, but they did a real number on her. She’s learning to do a whole lot over again and she’s got some permanent nerve damage in her arms and hands. Either she pissed off the wrong designer or decorator and they targeted her, or somebody just wanted to put her down for real without killing her. Either way, I’d say that her decorating days are done.” I blink several times.
“Jesus!” I exclaim. I can imagine she must’ve crossed the very wrong person. I never even met her, and her reputation precedes her even with me.
“Yeah,” Aaron nods. “Anyway, I’ll get to the doggy condo tomorrow. It should be a pretty quick job.” I grimace.
“My baby shower is tomorrow,” I say. He frowns.
“Oh,” he says, “not a good idea to have workers traipsing through while you’re playing shower games and making hats out of gift bows.” I chuckle.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “We’ll have the shower in the entertainment room downstairs. That way, you won’t disturb us, and we won’t disturb you. How long will it take?”
“Just the weekend,” he says. “No major demo unless you want us to re-outfit the bathroom. Remember, you’ve got doggie showers in there. That’ll take a week.”
“Oooh, yeah… we’ll want that back to people showers,” I say.
“A week, then,” he says. “I can start on Sunday if you want.”
“Since it’s going to be that long, you should probably start Sunday,” I say. “We’ll be working on Trevor’s room anyway. It’s coming up on D-Day.”
“I can imagine you’re about ready to meet the latest little Grey by now, huh?” he says.
“Yes, I am!” I declare.
That evening after a wonderful dinner, Christian and I are in the family room with our twins and our dogs. I’m drinking my gourmet coffee and Christian is gently massaging my ankles. I’m looking at his phone and cooing at the picture of the latest addition to the DiPignano crew as Barney’s wife just had her baby on Monday.
And the latest pictures of Barney… sweet Jesus!
I’m thinking about that movie The Mirror Has Two Faces again where Barbra Streisand’s character starts out as this frumpy college professor and blooms into a beautiful new swan after a relationship gone bad. Although Barbra Streisand is already a beautiful woman as far as I’m concerned, they kind of “uglied” her down for the part before she supposedly lost weight and changed her wardrobe.
Apparently, I discover that I’m the last to know that’s what Barney did, too. He had this brainiac, nerd persona that he purposely portrayed at the job apparently until an altercation with Mr. Grey during the hacker situation when he peeled out of his lab-boy persona and did a little “blooming” himself.
Since I’ve always called him and rarely had cause to actually see him, I didn’t notice that he had transformed into a certified hottie!! Had I seen him in the hallways or something, I wouldn’t have known who he was. I know I probably saw him at department head meetings, but if he wasn’t the center of attention, I never took note. Maybe it could be the whole corked brain thing… Nonetheless, he looks fantastic!
Christian tells me to swipe to the next picture and I’m looking at a masterfully arranged bouquet of dandelions on Daniella’s grave. Dandelions. I didn’t know it, but last Saturday was her birthday, and Christian had a bouquet of dandelions placed on her grave!
“Who in the world did you find that had dandelions?” I ask. “And why dandelions?”
“First, my love, dandelions grow wild all over Detroit,” I say, “so Greg picked them for me. And second, dandelions were Ella’s favorite flower.” I raise my brow.
“I know,” he says, reading my expression. “It’s strange, but apparently, my bio-mother felt that dandelions were misunderstood and taken for granted. So, that’s her favorite flower. I was going to have something delivered from the florist, but Greg said that he thinks she would’ve loved knowing that I asked him to put a bouquet of dandelions there instead, so…” He briefly stops massaging my feet to gesture to his phone in my hand.
“Hey! No slacking on the job!” I say, snapping my fingers and pointing to my feet.
“Yes, Mistress,” he says with mirth as he turns his attention back to his task. “So, how have you held up this week? No Helping Hands. No GEH. Are you losing your mind yet?” I chuckle.
“I haven’t cut myself off completely, Christian,” I confess. “I’m just focusing more on myself than I am on outside matters. Have you set up a time to meet with Grace about the next steps for the Fields Foundation?”
“I have,” he says, giving my foot a final squeeze before gently caressing my calf under my maxi skirt. “She’s coming over for lunch on Monday and we’re going to discuss the fastest way to get the services going. Mia wants to be a part of it, too.”
“That’s great news,” I say. “I love this—truly, I do. I was so concerned that Grace would feel slighted in some way with you wanting to do something in the name of your biological mother, and now it looks like it’s becoming a family affair. I couldn’t be more pleased. By the way, Marilyn should be in that meeting, too.” He raises a brow at me.
“Really?” he asks, and I nod.
“She’s so passionate about the cause, Christian,” I say. “There’s so much more behind her decision to terminate her pregnancy. You know that saying about a voice crying out in the wilderness?”
“I vaguely recall hearing something like that,” he says with a nod.
“Well, she’s that voice of all those girls left out in the cold in their time of need,” I say. “She has told me some really sad stories about her past and her experience with seeing these girls left with no support system. The same thing that happened to Ella happened to these girls. The only difference is that Ella didn’t have the ostracization of the church, but she had the ostracization of both parents and she was out there on her own. That’s what Marilyn had, too, even though she didn’t have to care for a baby.
“A young, single mother out there alone 30 years ago? Her survival is balancing on a thread. One thing can happen that can flip everything upside-down and without some type of advocate… even today, there’s no telling where they would end up. And from what I think I know about Ella—how smart she was and how much Greg loved her—her thread broke. Both sets of grandparents turned their backs on her, and there’s no way of knowing if she had quick access to any kinds of resources in Detroit or even if she knew where to start. Marilyn has seen these tragic stories first-hand, and she is passionate about it. I even suggested her maybe being one of the spokesper…”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Grey.” Windsor’s voice interrupts our conversation.
“Yes, Windsor?” I ask.
“You have a visitor, ma’am,” she says. “Mr. Pope is in the grand entry.” I twist my lips, moving my feet from Christian’s lap.
“He’s alone?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies. I sigh. Gary is here alone… on a Friday night.
“Show him to the dining room,” I say. “Offer him something to drink.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and he leaves the room. I look at Christian and he looks knowingly at me.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Exactly what you think,” he says, standing from the sofa.
He holds his hand out to me and helps me off the sofa. He puts his hand in the small of my back and leads me to the dining room. We find Gary sitting at the dining table with his head down, looking defeated as hell.
“Hey, Gary,” I greet with concern. He raises his head and sees me and Christian standing there.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I should’ve called…”
“No,” Christian says, “it’s fine. Is everything alright?” Gary drops his head again.
“Not really,” he says, and he doesn’t say anything else. I turn to my husband.
“Christian, let me talk to him,” I say, my voice low. He looks at Gary, then back at me.
“Fine,” he says, “but you’ve been doing very well this week with your blood pressure. While I’m not going to prevent you from being there for your friend, the minute it affects your blood pressure, I’m personally kicking him out.” I gasp quietly.
“You’ll do that to Gary?” I hiss, appalled.
“I’ll do that to Marilyn, Maxine, Valerie—hell, I’ll even do it to Al!” he says unapologetically. I thin my lips, then nod and Christian leaves the dining room.
“That looked intense,” Gary says when I join him at the dining table.
“My blood pressure has been dangerously high over the last few months,” I tell him as I sit, “even higher over the last few weeks. If it spikes throughout this conversation, my husband will throw you out.” Gary’s brow furrows.
“Why would he throw me out?” he asks. I put my fingers on my forehead.
“You would be surprised by the conversations we’ve had about my blood pressure,” I tell him, holding up the wrist with my Fitbit.
“This is connected to his phone,” I say. “I somewhat resented it at first. Then, after a while, I realized it was necessary, because most often, I don’t know that my blood pressure is up until he calls. I can usually get it back down with some kind of mindful meditation and breathing, but the fact that it spikes so often is becoming detrimental to mine and the baby’s health.”
“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that, Ana,” he says. “Maybe I… should go. I don’t want to be the cause for your husband to have to come in here and throw me out.”
“As long as our conversation doesn’t cause my blood pressure to rise, we’ll be fine.”
“That’s the problem, Ana,” he says. “It just might.” I sigh.
“Wait a minute,” I say. I close my eyes and breathe deep breaths a few times. He can only be here for one of two reasons—to vent about Marilyn or to tell me that they broke up. I’ll prepare myself for both.
“We’ll see how the conversation goes,” I say opening my eyes.
“You look like you’re preparing yourself for bad news,” he says. I raise a brow at him.
“I am, Gary,” I say impassively. “You’re here on a Friday night, alone, and you just told me that our conversation may cause my blood pressure to rise. The baby shower is tomorrow, and I already don’t expect you to be there, so I know that can’t be it. You were conspicuously absent from the hospital when Ricky was born, but Marilyn was there. So, come on, Pope. Let’s have it.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out of both cheeks.
“I went by her apartment earlier,” he says. “She’s moving out. She didn’t even call me to help her—she was just leaving! I didn’t even know. Did you know?” I raise a brow.
“Yes, Gary, I knew,” I say, matter-of-factly. “How did you not know?” I add, throwing that ball right back into his court. He twists his lips.
“We… hadn’t been seeing a lot of each other,” he says, dropping his gaze. I don’t respond. After a pause, he raises his gaze to me and speaks again.
“We broke up,” Gary says. I close my eyes, roll my neck, and drop my head.
“When?” I ask, opening my eyes and looking at him.
“About an hour ago,” he says. I sigh.
“You’ve broken up before,” I point out.
“No, we didn’t,” he says. “I left. I couldn’t deal with it… with her… and I left. This time it was mutual.” My brow furrows.
“Mutual?” I ask. He rolls his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice a cross between resolved and hurt. “I think it was.”
“So… it was an amicable split?” I ask. His eyes sharpen.
“I wouldn’t say that!” he shoots. “It wouldn’t matter, though. It was never going to work out, Ana, not after the abortion.”
Now the truth is coming out, at least parts of it.
“Did you always feel this way?” I ask, and he doesn’t answer. “Why did you continue when you knew you couldn’t forgive her? Don’t be mistaken. I’m not blaming you for anything—but you’re my friend and you stayed in that situation when you knew you didn’t want to. That must’ve been agony. Why did you do that?”
“For the same reason she did,” he admits. “She didn’t want to break up. She didn’t want to hurt me. She was probably hoping that we would mend and get back together again… take your pick.”
Yeah, he’s resolved.
“I knew, Ana,” he adds. “I knew there was someone else and I know that you knew, too.”
“What…?” I say. I didn’t throw her under the bus, so she threw me under the bus?
“I’m not angry at you for not telling me,” he adds quickly. “You’re her friend, too, and besides… it wasn’t your place to tell me. It was hers.”
I look at him with that furrowed-brow-What-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-Pope expression. I’m not confirming or denying anything!
“You’re around her all the time, Ana,” he continues, “every day. You’re telling me that you didn’t even suspect?” I sigh heavily. I can’t pause for too long.
“I knew something was wrong, Gary,” I confess. “Everybody knew something was wrong. You were skipping out on events and when you were present, you were often hiding somewhere. She was clearly unhappy. She didn’t know what was going on and neither did any of us! Everybody’s asking everybody else, including Marilyn, what’s going on and nobody had any answers. Nobody could ask you because you were either not here or hiding. And when you did come to us, you confessed that you were lying to us, too.
“In case you forgot, Val and I were growing whole humans inside of us,” I say accusing. “We were both problem pregnancies with Dadzillas breathing down our necks for nine months. I still am! I had whole families breaking down all around me, including my own. My husband found his birth father; his uncle died; his father was fighting with his aunt over his uncle/grandfather’s house; Shalane got out of jail, and we had to try to protect Sophie from her shenanigans. When did we have time to deal with yours and Marilyn’s relationship when you guys weren’t forthcoming with us?”
And the Oscar really goes to…
I put that ball right back in his court—again. This is your mess, your relationship. I’ll be here to help you, to hold you together because I love you, but your fact-finding mission is too little, too late. There’s no use in running around trying to figure out what everybody knew. He should’ve cleaned this up before it got to this point. And I meant what I said to Marilyn—I will disavow any prior knowledge of this situation, because it wasn’t my situation.
“Well, I assumed you would know,” he says, “not only because you guys are together every day, but also because it’s that cop, Jerry.” I raise my brow at him.
He knows!
“How… do… why…?” My surprise is genuine because I didn’t think she would come right out and tell him.
“I’m shocked you don’t know,” he says, noting my reaction. “She admitted it to me. She told me that I acted like I didn’t want her, so…” He trails off and looks down at the table. I grimace.
“Well, this is awkward,” I say, truthfully. Gary raises his gaze to me. “Jerry’s a friend of the family, but Christian and Jerry are very close. He and his father, Levi, were here a couple of weeks ago on a fishing trip with my dad and one of Christian’s business associates. I can tell you that he’s going to be here again. He was here for Christian’s birthday party—so were you. Were they dating then?”
I’m asking because I truly don’t remember. I’m trying to go back in my mind to the day that I saw them at the restaurant, but I don’t remember.
“I don’t know,” he says, and that’s his answer to a lot of my questions. Marilyn had answers whether I liked them or not, but his answers are all I don’t know.
“Does it really matter?” he asks. “He’s here now. They’re a thing now. Does it matter if he was drilling her a week ago or a month ago?”
“Gary, how could you not know?” I ask. “You see each other all the time. I know you don’t live together anymore, but…?” He didn’t have a clue? Not a fucking clue?
“We didn’t see each other all the time,” he says. “We fell apart. It wasn’t… as often.”
“How not as often?” I press.
“I don’t know…” There’s those three words again!
“Days? Weeks?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. “So, it could’ve been weeks…” I say. I didn’t know that. “Phone?” he shakes his head.
“So…” I put my finger up, “you haven’t seen her for weeks—possibly, and you haven’t spoken to her on the phone…” Silence. “And you’re seriously saying that you had no clue?”
“You had no clue,” he says a bit accusatory.
“I see her five days a week I talk to her seven and I’m not fucking her!” I retort.
Am I angry? Is my blood pressure going up? Self-check… nope. Okay… but, dude!
“I didn’t know she was fucking somebody else!” he says, shooting up from his seat and pacing a bit.
“So, Gary, what did you think? That she was just at home moping, crying, and pining over you like she was before?” Sheesh, Marilyn was right!
“No,” he says a bit flustered. “She’s different. She has been for a long time, like a long time. I knew she wasn’t at home pining over me, I just didn’t know this.”
You left a space. Somebody slipped in. How could you not know? How could you not expect it?
We’re both pondering for a minute before I raise my gaze to see Christian standing in the doorway between the hallway and the dining room. Oh, shit!
My eyes widen when I see him, causing Gary to look at him, too. I raise my wrist and swipe the screen of my Fitbit a few times. When I get to my blood pressure… it’s normal. Shit, that stunt almost caused it to spike! What the hell, man?
“Just checking,” he says calmly. “Control what we can control.” I twist my lips and glare at him. Gary laughs in disbelief.
“He doesn’t want your blood pressure to go up,” he says with tragic mirth. “You may not have known…” he looks at Christian.
“But he did,” he adds, pointing to Christian. Christian looks at him, then looks at me.
“He and Marilyn broke up,” I say to Christian. “She’s dating Jerry.”
His gaze remains on me for a while, then he looks at Gary again. You can tell by context clues what stance I’ve taken. It’s up to you what stance you’ll take.
“See?” Gary says. “He’s not surprised. Mare probably didn’t tell you because of this—because of your blood pressure. He’s not surprised.” My husband opts to take the wheels of that bus all on himself.
“When and where was it my place to tell you this?” Christian asks calmly.
“You gave us couples’ counseling!” Gary accuses. Woosah… woosah.
“Yes, we did!” Christian says firmly and calmly, “and what good did it do? You missed the most important point that we were trying to make, and that’s communication. You ignored her. You distanced yourself from her. She saw it; all of your friends saw it; even an outsider saw it. Even I saw the emotional distance between you on Easter—you could’ve driven a Mac truck between the two of you. You treated that woman like you didn’t want her, and you left room for someone else to sneak in the back door. If it hadn’t been Jerry, it would’ve been somebody else.
“If you love somebody, you can’t leave them with a bunch of uncertainty. I learned that the hard way and I could’ve lost my family because of it. And yes, Garrett, I did ask my friend why he would get involved with a woman who was already in a relationship. Do you know what he told me? He said that the relationship was already over. You two just hadn’t said the words yet. How do you think he knew that?
“When you two were going strong, everybody knew it,” Christian says, “and when you two were falling apart, everybody knew it. This time, somebody else who wanted the girl knew it, too. If you didn’t know it, you can’t blame me for that.” Gary shakes his head.
“I look like a fool,” he says, looking at the floor, “a damn fool.” He turns on his heels and walks past Christian. I listen and Christian watches as Gary walks to the grand entry and out the front door, closing it behind him. He turns back to me, and I stand from my chair.
“‘She’s dating Jerry,’” he says as he walks over to where I’m standing. “You said it like you were making an announcement.”
“You told me to avoid blood pressure spikes and him knowing that I knew about it would’ve been a blood pressure spike,” I say. “You knew that. That’s why you came in here.” He examines me for a moment.
“That’s okay, baby,” he says, putting his arm around my back. “I’ll take this one.” He kisses me on my temple.
“How do you feel?” he asks. “Any surges going on? Any adrenaline?” I sigh and shake my head.
“Not that I can tell,” I say. “I hate to say this, but I’m glad that he knows. At least now, he can just move on.”
“Is that what you think?” Christian says. I gaze at him.
“I would think so,” I say. “I mean, maybe he didn’t want to break up, but he didn’t want her either. You can’t have it both ways.”
“I completely agree with that,” he says, “but is he now going to leave the Scooby Gang?” I frown.
“Why would he do that?” I ask.
“Is he not going to attend family-and-friend functions like he bowed out of all the child-related things?” Christian asks. “Because if he doesn’t, that’s not the last he’s going to see of them. One or both of them is going to be at something. That’s not moving on. That’s not closure. That’s all the time in your face… or at least at every family-and-friend function.” I sigh.
“Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do about that, because I’m not going to uninvite Gary… or Marilyn, and I don’t expect you to uninvite Jerry.” He shrugs. “Do you think you should’ve revealed what Jerry said?”
“Number one,” Christian begins, “he fucked up and he was making me defend myself. All bets are off. And number two—Jerry made it no secret that although he wasn’t flaunting the relationship like a flag, he had no loyalties to Gary. He said something on the order of Gary had a gold mine that he was treating like trash and that he would completely expect his girl to go and find someone else if he did that.
“It’s a known fact that neglect is one of the biggest reasons to cause anybody to stray from a relationship. There are many more, but neglect is one of the biggest, and I don’t have to be a relationship expert to know that. I was petrified when I woke up on Christmas day and didn’t recognize my own house, then I looked over at my son and he was walking. I didn’t know what I was going to do at the time, but I knew that I had to do something.
“You never whined or complained, but I knew there was going to be a problem,” he continues. When you woke up the next day and we were discussing the issues at GEH, then you rolled through there swinging that Butterfly sword kicking ass and taking names, I got another Christmas present! I was lucky, though. We had talked about this. You knew what was going on. When you saw the problem, you came up with a solution. What were Marilyn’s options? She was the source of his discontent. How could she fix that?”
He rolls his eyes and stops talking. I know there’s something else that he wants to say.
“What is it, Christian?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“The last time I said anything particularly contrary about this relationship, you didn’t speak to me,” he says, “and if I remember correctly, I shut down, too. Do you remember that?” I do, but…
“What do you call all that stuff you just said?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head hard like a kid. I sigh again, take a few deep breaths, and prepare myself.
“Tell me,” I say. “This was a whole ass shit show. What can you possibly say about it now that’s going to piss me off?” He examines me for a moment.
“Fine,” he says, “but I swear to God, I will lick you until my tongue needs a sling.”
My eyes widen. Fuck, that’s a lotta lickin’!
“This is another moment where I think Garrett was selfish,” he says. That’s a bit confusing since Marilyn was the one who tipped out on the relationship, but…
“Elaborate,” I say.
“Garrett knew a long time ago that this relationship was not going to recover,” he says. “He can sing that ‘I tried’ song all he wants to, but he knew that he would never be able to forgive Marilyn for what he felt she did. I’m not saying that he’s wrong for trying to rebuild the relationship, because they still loved one another. But at some point, well before now, he knew this was a lost cause. He didn’t want to let go, or he didn’t want to be the first to say goodbye, or whatever, but he knew at some point that he wasn’t going to be able to move on. So, instead of being truthful about how he felt, he just shut down the whole relationship thing on his side and never decided to tell her that it was over. He can’t pretend to be bruised now.”
I twist my lips and Christian pulls out his phone. When he looks at me, I swipe my Fitbit.
126/85. I look back at my husband.
“Missed opportunity, huh?” I say and he twists his lips. “I can’t be upset because Gary said pretty much the same thing. He didn’t admit to being selfish, but he did admit that he knew they would never bounce back from the abortion. He also said that he didn’t tell Marilyn it was over for all the same reasons that he assumed she didn’t tell him, which were just about everything you just said. Was it selfish? I don’t know. Maybe more self-preservation than selfish, but I can totally see why you would feel that way.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Christian says, taking my hand. “Now, I wanna fuck!”
*-*
As my husband had fully prepared himself for stress-reducing cunnilingus and intercourse, that’s exactly what we did. After a slow, delicious, hot lick of my clit until my first orgasm and an equally slow and tantalizing fuck to my second, I slip into a climax-induced sleep and only awake with the sound of the two-way communication system.
“Ana,” I say sleepily.
“Your decorating crew have arrived,” Gail says. “Where should I direct them?”
I look at the clock—11:30. Damn, I slept like the dead! I look down and see Christian’s arm draped over me.
We slept like the dead.
“Entertainment room,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “Who’s here?”
“Marilyn has been here for a couple of hours,” she says. “She told me not to wake you. Mia and Valerie have arrived, and Keri is getting some time in with little Ricky. Are you sure you want to do the entertainment room? With all the noise?”
Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m glad that I told Aaron to wait until tomorrow to start on the guest room/doggie condo.
“How about the family room?” Gail suggests. “We’ll be able to keep an eye on all of the children as well as take part in the festivities, and we can extend the party to the patio if you like. The weather is forecasting a beautiful day—only slightly overcast and no rain.” I’m too tired to protest.
“Okay,” I say with a yawn. “Thank you, Gail. I’ll be down after a quick shower.”
“Will do. End two-way communications.”
“No,” Christian mumbles, pulling me closer to him. “I want to snuggle.”
“I’d love to snuggle, but we’ve got company,” I say with a stretch. “My baby shower is today, and I think Val has been looking forward to it even more than I have.”
“That’s not until this afternoon,” he protests, still refusing to let me get up.
“Yes,” I inform him, “and it’s nearly 11:30.”
“Shit! Really?” he says, raising his head and looking over my shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. “Well, there goes my plans for a morning quickie.”
“You’re insatiable, Mr. Grey,” I tease, slapping his hand.
“Don’t act new,” he says. “You know I love it when you’re this round with my kid. It brings out the animal in me.” He growls and nibbles my neck, causing me to giggle.
After a few gentle stretches and a warm shower, I don a white, long-sleeved, back out “bumpsuit” dress with my henna belly on display. I’m brushing my hair when Christian comes into my dressing room.
“Good God,” he says. “I swear you’re trying to kill me with these dresses. Was this Victoria’s doing?” He moves behind me and rubs my hips over the soft material.
“Somewhat,” I say, moving my head and giving him access to kiss my neck. “I saw some styles online and sent them to her, telling her what I wanted. She brought over several dresses for me to convalesce in until Trevor is born.”
“Convalesce?” he asks. “Is that what you call it?” He’s nuzzling my neck now.
“Well, kind of,” I say. “I’m relaxing, enjoying the last weeks of my pregnancy, and staying stress-free. What would you call it?” He raises his head and meets my gaze in the mirror.
“Are you doing this because of the conversation we had,” he asks, “about me feeling like I’m losing control?” I can’t lie to him.
“Partially,” I say. He raises his brow at me.
“You know that’s topping from the bottom,” he says, “that and the sex that night.” I was afraid of that.
“No, Christian,” I say, turning around in his arms and taking his hands in mine. “The sex was because I wanted you. I wanted to love you and I wanted you to know that I love you. If that’s topping from the bottom, then I’ll accept that, but this? This is me understanding that you were right. Not only was I in danger of hurting myself and Trevor, but I was causing you stress, too. While I truly don’t want to cause you any more stress, this little guy is wholly and completely dependent on me until the day that he’s born. I’ll have a whole village of help once he makes his appearance, but right now, it’s all Ana, and I can’t let him—or myself—down.
“So, if you really want to know what’s going on with my self-imposed convalescence, I’m just listening to my Dominus, my baby, my body, and a little bit of common sense.”
I raise guileless blue eyes to his soft grays, and I see love and gratitude there.
“Do you have any idea how much I adore you, Dr. Anastasia Rose Steele-Grey,” he says softly.
“Yes, I do, Mr. Christian Trevelyan Grey,” I reply, sliding my hands up his chest, “but feel free to let me know as often as the mood hits you.”
“Very often,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. A few moments later, I step into a pair of comfy slides with modest heels, and Christian and I join the ladies downstairs in the family room.
“Are you sticking around for the shower, Christian?” Val asks. Christian shakes his head.
“No, I just wanted to make sure my lady was delivered safely and see what you all were up to,” he admits. “I had my little boys gathering last week when Sophie had her birthday party, so I think I’ll just go up to my temporary office and get some work done. Elliot’s at the pool?” She nods.
“Something about some custom tiles,” she says. “He hasn’t been in the best of spirits this week.” I frown.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Val shrugs.
“I don’t know,” she says. “He… just doesn’t seem like El lately. I’ve asked him if he’s okay or if he wants to talk and he just says that he’s fine, maybe tired sometimes.” I twist my lips.
“Keep an eye on him,” I say. “Maybe he feels spread a little thin trying to help take care of the baby and work at the same time.”
“Yeah, that could be it,” Christian says. “I’ve taken paternity leave with my wife with both pregnancies, but I know that spring is his busiest season, and he can’t really do that. If you guys need a break, I’m certain that you’re spoiled for choice for babysitters… present company included.”
I make a face at Val because I had just told her that about two weeks ago.
“I may take you up on that,” Val says, “although I’ll have to do it in secret. El only says ‘Hi’ to me first out of obligation when he gets home. He’s burning rubber to get to that kid.” I look at Christian.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” I say, “see how he’s doing…”
“Please, don’t,” Val says, and we both look at her. “I don’t want him to think… well, know that I was talking about him behind his back. I’m not being sneaky or anything. I’m just… concerned.” Christian puts his hand on Val’s shoulder.
“Elliot and I talk about things like this all the time since the day you guys announced that you were pregnant,” he assures her. “I know how to approach it, okay?” She twists her lips.
“Please tell me if it doesn’t go well,” she beseeches him. “I just… I don’t want…” she sighs and trails off.
“Don’t worry, sis,” he says, his voice comforting. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.” Her shoulders fall and she nods. Christian goes in the direction of the elevator, and I don’t know if he’s headed upstairs or downstairs. I’m a little jealous that he gets to see the pool in progress, but they’re all right that I don’t need to be in a construction site in my condition.
“It really looks great down here, you guys,” I say, looking at the decorations. “It’s so festive.”
“Thank you,” Val says. “Marilyn ran some last-minute errands for things we didn’t have this morning. I hope you don’t mind me nabbing your P.A. today.”
“As long as she didn’t mind,” I say looking at Marilyn. “Gail tells me that you’ve been here for hours. I wasn’t expecting you to work.”
“No prob, Bosslady,” she says. “Any excuse to take a break from the moving.”
“You’re moving?” Mia asks and Marilyn nods.
“Court moved out of Bosslady’s condo, and she didn’t want it to be empty, so…” she points to herself.
“Score!” Val says. “That’s a win/win, huh? I hope my MIA brother/friend is helping you!” Mare and I share a knowing look.
“Actually… no… he’s not,” she says, and the room falls silent.
“Why not?” Mia asks the question that everyone wants to know. Mare is silent for a moment, then she sighs.
“We… broke up,” she says. “He didn’t even know I was moving.”
Everyone is silent again.
“Are you alright?” Val asks. “I mean… no offense but… the last time you guys broke up…” She trails off.
“I’m fine, Val,” she says. “I was expecting it. He’s been very distant for quite a while now and… I was expecting it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. Mare shakes her head.
“Not really,” she says. “I’m in a bit of a precarious position. I consider you all my friends, but you were Gary’s friends, first. I have some definite feelings about this breakup, but I don’t want to put anyone in a position where they have to choose sides.”
“Well, it’s hard not to when none of us have heard from Gary,” Val says. “Is he hurting? Is he hiding? Is he guilty? What’s up? He promised that he wouldn’t do this after he went MIA the first time. I’m activating the contingency.” She pulls out her phone.
“Val, that might not be a good idea,” I caution.
“Why not?” she questions.
“Remember what you said about not wanting Elliot to know that you were talking behind his back?” I point out.
“This is different, Steele,” she says. “He’s been hiding shit from us for way too long. He was lying to us about why he wasn’t coming around until we backed him into a corner, and he admitted that he was still sore about the baby…”
“You knew that?” Marilyn says, surprised. Val looks at her.
“You didn’t?” Val responds.
“Well… yeah… I… knew… he just… didn’t come out and say it,” Mare stutters out. Val puts her hand on her hip.
“So, he didn’t even tell you,” she declares. “He just let you guess.” Marilyn scoffs.
“I’ve known for a long time,” she says. “If I’m honest, I always knew. I just thought he was going to get over it and he never did.”
“So, you knew all along,” Val says. It’s a statement, not a question.
“Let me clarify,” Mare says. “From day one until nearly four months in, I was persona non grata. When we got back together, we went to counseling for a few months and things were appearing to get back to normal—but at the beginning of that counselling, he made sure that I knew exactly how he felt. I will not repeat the words that he said to me because I don’t want you to think any less of him.
“For a few months, things were okay. If I had to pinpoint where things started to decline, it would be somewhere around the Italy trip…”
I had a feeling. I remember speaking to her when I was in Italy, and she was still here preparing to join us. Things just didn’t sound right, like a girl getting ready to take a romantic trip to Lake Como with her boyfriend. I didn’t pay much attention to them on the trip, but I don’t remember any really touching moments like I could with everyone else.
“That long?” Val says. “You two have been in some type of limbo for that long and neither of you told us? You damn near died the last time…” Val cuts off and swipes her phone.
“I’m activating the contingency,” she says finally and walks out onto the patio. I look at Marilyn.
“You couldn’t expect something like this to stay a secret for long,” I tell her. She shrugs.
“I didn’t expect it to stay a secret at all,” she says. “I’m just sorry I revealed it before your baby shower.”
“You don’t seem really surprised,” Mia says. Oh, shit…
“Gary came by last night,” I say, looking at Marilyn. “I just felt like it wasn’t my place to be spreading the news. You guys should be doing that.” Marilyn scoffs tragically.
“Was I the cheating, lying, murderous bitch again?” she says matter-of-factly.
“Whoa!” Mia says, her eyes wide. I look at Mare, my eyes wide, too.
“No!” I exclaim. “You weren’t any of that!”
“To you,” she says unfazed. “Do you remember when we first started talking about this early last year? Do you remember when we—what I revealed what he called me when he was ‘emotional…’” she uses the finger quotes, “… and I asked if he was going to call me that again whenever he got ‘emotional?’ Well, he did. He never stopped feeling that way. All this time, he felt that way, and it festered in him until he didn’t feel anything else.” She looks at Mia.
“Please don’t repeat any of that,” she says. “I’ve only said this to you.” Mia pretends to lock her lips and puts both hands up.
“Who would I tell?” she says.
“Val, Maxie, Ethan, nobody, please,” Mare says. “This is my cross to bear unless he wants to share. Nobody, please…”
“Nobody,” Mia repeats. “I promise.” She looks at me. I twist my lips and look back at her.
“Seriously?” I say and nothing else. It’s her turn to put her hands up.
“Phil is dropping Maxie and Mindy off over here,” Val says, breezing back into the family room, “and then he and Al are going to see Gary. No offense to you, Mare, but we’ve been a little family for years. While I’m a bit perturbed that he kept his true feelings hidden all this time—from you and from us—he’s still the runt of our litter and we have to look out for him.”
“Understood,” Marilyn says impassively. Everyone is silent for a moment, then Val speaks again.
“Okay, so that fire is being taken care of by the boys. So, what’s say we have some baby shower fun?” she announces.
“Yes, let’s, please!” I say. I love both Marilyn and Gary, but I don’t want this afternoon to be about their breakup!
*-*
There’s a house full of women—and children—eating, laughing, and playing games, and no one speaks about the MareGare drama, thank God. We all knew that Val’s baby shower was to help the young couple with the things that we knew they would need for a new baby, and my baby shower was basically “girls just wanna have fun.”
I come to find out that Val attached that theme to the shower, not just “girls just wanna have fun”—which we did—but also that the gifts had to be geared towards the young, billionaire new mother who has everything. That doesn’t mean that the gifts have to be expensive, but that they should be unique.
For the “fun” part, we played games that I don’t think I’ve seen at a baby shower before, or at least they weren’t nearly this funny if I’ve seen them before. For example, we played a game where we had to guess who the celebrity baby was. Everybody guessed Rihanna, Eminem, and Justin Bieber. Marilyn was the only one who guessed Doja-Cat, but her picture really wasn’t a baby picture. None of us guessed Drake or Beyonce.
Maxie won “most embarrassing childhood story” with her tale about coming on her first period very early and having the family down the street over for dinner. Included in this family was a little boy who Maxie had a crush on. As they’re eating their dessert, the family dog comes strolling into the dining room with pieces of a used pad in his mouth. He had gotten into the trash in Maxie’s bathroom, retrieved the pad, and tore it to pieces. None of us could really top that.
I almost went into labor laughing at the ladies playing the “finish the bottle” relay race, where the first person to drink a baby bottle full of soda wins. Courtney almost choked trying to suck as much of the soda out of the bottle in one breath. And the “make it to the toilet” game was too hilarious! There were three teams and each person had to waddle to a pot a few feet away with pennies held between their legs. They have to drop the penny into the pot without using their hands and then the next person goes. Poor Mia lost that penny five times.
But the funniest had to be the blindfolded diaper change. There were smears of baby lotion and piles of baby powder everywhere. Some of those poor babies had diapers on their arms or on their chests… or no diaper at all because the diaper tabs tore halfway through. Val’s baby doll had the diaper on its head.
Poor Ricky!
It was clear that everyone knew that I didn’t need anything the second time around because I wasn’t new to this and because I’m a billionaire. So, what do you get for the billionaire new mom that already has everything? Just about anything that’s not on the typical baby shower gift list.
For example…
Mandy got me a SNOOZER nightlight/sleep trainer/white noise machine. I’ve never heard of these before, but apparently, some doctor somewhere thinks that the rainbow choices of lights and the soothing sounds will help settle your baby and create calmer sleep routines. I know that the lights will help, but I never thought to add soothing sounds. Not only that, but it’s supposed to work with older children, too. It’s controlled by an app on the phone, and it even has a breathing track to help parents teach their child mindful breathing. So, depending on its success, I may get one for the twins for when they move into their own room again.
Grace got me swaddlers. It’s not unusual, but I didn’t have them for my twins.
I got various other things… onesies with incredible catchy phrases like “You wanna pizza me” and “Last name Hungry first name Always,” a binkie that takes babies temperature, a hands-free pumping bra—a weird-looking thing indeed—and a self-feeding baby bottle which I probably wouldn’t use until he’s a bit older because I would be afraid of him choking.
Sophie’s gift was a collection of snacks that are good for breastfeeding moms, either for energy or to help with lactation. She even snuck some of the foods into the shower and none of us knew they were all healthy snacks.
The banana bread protein bites were delicious. The girls devoured the blueberry muffins, not knowing that they were actually lactation muffins made with flaxseed and Brewer’s yeast. Sophie informs me that she learned that these two items promote breast milk production and, of course, blueberries are considered a superfood. She also made some no-bake chocolate coconut energy balls that look a lot like her chocolate truffles rolled in coconut. And the chocolate-dipped and white chocolate-dipped granola cookies were a big hit. Sophie promises to make me one of the snacks at least once a week and more often if I ask her. What a thoughtful gift!
And speaking of thoughtful…
Since Mia gave me the super-duper breast pump last pregnancy—which, by the way, I have pulled it out, sanitized it, and purchased back-up parts for it—this time around, she put just as much thought into her gift. She found a list of the top most important things that you should do in the last month of your pregnancy including the must haves for the hospital and made sure that I had them all. These are things that I wouldn’t have thought of or didn’t even know existed.
One of the must-haves for the hospital is a ten-foot charger cord for my phone because the nearest plug is almost always too far away or hiding behind the bed.
The must-haves for the hospital bag and post-partum care that were also a part of her gift included Dermoplast and Tucks for the vajayjay and Always Discreet incontinence underwear. At first, I was a bit offended by the underwear until she told me that a resource indicated that Depends are much more reliable and comfortable than the hospital pads and the mesh panties after delivery. As she couldn’t bring herself to purchase Depends for me, she discovered the Always Discreet which are specifically for women who are postpartum, not to mention they’re prettier and look like regular panties.
She brought the panties a size larger because she discovered another little gem called “Padsicles.” They’re exactly what they sound like—instant ice maxi pads that help cool that special place after all the pushing and stitches. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I think it’s the best thing since sliced bread!!
Next, she bought a near endless supply of all the things needed for survival kits—several small wicker hampers for command centers throughout the house as well as a car caddy and a cool, cute diaper bag backpack. In the wicker command centers will be diapers, wipes, a change of clothes for Trevor, pacifiers, disposable changing pads, diaper rash medicine, and burp cloths—but not just any burp cloths… flour sack ring spun 100% cotton kitchen tea towels which are just as soft if not softer and more absorbent than burp cloths.
In addition to all of those supplies, the car caddy and diaper bag will include Ziplock bags in case there’s nowhere immediately to dispose of a dirty diaper, hand sanitizer, disinfecting wipes, and socks, bibs, and a hat for the baby. The diaper backpack will also include a Packit freezable lunch bag for baby bottles, breast pads, and snacks and a change of clothes for Mom in case of milk accidents or baby vomit mishaps.
What’s more is that except for clothes, the backpack is already packed as well as the car caddy, and she just needs to know where we want our command stations and she’ll stock those for us, too… all four of them.
Mia thought of everything, and the one thing that she didn’t think of, Vickie did—something that I seriously never would’ve thought of.
“Activate two-way communications,” I call into the air and summon my husband.
“Christian.”
“I need you in the family room, dear,” I say. “There’s something here for you.”
“For me?” he asks.
“Yes, for you,” I confirm. “See you in a moment. End two-way communications.” That way, he has to come downstairs to see what’s here for him.
While I’m looking at the gifts geared towards the twins—a mini potty training urinal for Mikey, an LED motion-sensor night light for the toilet, and the snack bowl in a ring that never spills, Christian makes his way to a room full of women all now cooing over easy an baby body sling and the Moonlight storybook projector that looks like a viewfinder that attaches to your phone but shows little movie scenes on the wall for bedtime stories.
“Yes, dear?” my husband says, his voice overly accommodating and petulant at the same time. I look at Vickie who smiles at him.
“I got you something for quality time with your son,” she says, pointing to a fairly large box on one of the tables that hasn’t been opened yet.
“Where in the world did you find camouflage wrapping paper?” Christian asks, walking over to the gift.
“It wasn’t easy,” she says. “Now, open it.”
We all sit in silence as Christian opens his gift.
“Are you serious?” he chuckles as he removes the contents from the box—a super masculine army tan duffle-diaper bag with a black name tag that says “DADDY” and a matching body baby carrier.
“Oooo! Cool!” Mia exclaims! “Another diaper bag to pack!”
We all giggle as Christian hugs Vickie and thanks her, then places the body baby carrier over his shoulders and asks me to help him adjust it correctly. With Val’s permission, he tests the carrier with Little Ricky who, moments earlier, was fussy and fidgety and is now cooing at his uncle Christian while being cradled in the baby carrier.
“Is there anything he can’t do?” Val whispers to me. I smile.
“He spent most of his life not knowing how to love,” I reply quietly. “Now, he just has a lot of it to give.”
A/N: “Boy Who Cried Wolf—One of Aesop’s fables about a boy who was tending to the village’s sheep. He repeatedly exclaimed that a wolf was chasing the sheep to get the villagers to run to his rescue. Then he laughed when they all scurried up the hill to help him. He did it so many times that when a wolf really was chasing the sheep, the villagers didn’t believe him, and the sheep all scattered. When the villagers climbed the hill in the late evening to see why the boy hadn’t returned, he was crying and asked why they didn’t come to help him when he called. A wise, older villager told him, “Nobody believes a liar…even when he is telling the truth!”
See all the fantastic goodies from Ana’s baby shower at Ana’s Baby Shower.
Pictures of places, cars, fashion, etc., can be found at Grey Reflections (Season Seven).
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Butterfly Saga 